


A Pain That I'm Used To

by hotchoco195



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, S&M, Sebastian being the good lieutenant, dark!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian didn't like Eton or Cambridge, didn't like the army, didn't like his father - but he liked working for Jim.</p><p>At least he did until Sherlock came along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pain That I'm Used To

Sebastian did not. Sign on. For this shit.

It was one thing to sleep with Jim. The Irishman had a certain feral charm he couldn’t resist – especially if he valued his appendages – and while he may have been a prick to work for, he more than made up for it in bed.

This was something else entirely.

 

He didn’t question Jim when the smaller man became obsessed with Sherlock. He took it for another of the boss’ odd whims and went along, doing the recon required of him and setting up traps and hints.

He had not expected Jim to go out one night and come back with a scrawny well-dressed detective in tow.

“Sebby, this is Sherlock. He’s going to be living with us now.”

“Um, right. Good to finally meet you.”

The other man’s eyes were snake-like slits. “Likewise.”

 

Nothing changed, at first.

Jim and Sherlock spent hours in the study making plans, and Sebastian would go out and shoot whoever they told him to when he wasn’t busy keeping them fed and protected. If the two geniuses were sleeping together he didn’t see it. Jim still called him into his bed and made the same possessive overtures as always.

He couldn’t help himself. “Are you and Sherlock…are you a couple?”

Jim laughed so hard he choked, pushing himself off the mattress with one hand.

“Sherly doesn’t _do_ sex Sebby. Says it’s ordinary.”

Sebastian couldn’t see anything ordinary in the ways Jim held him down and turned him inside out, but he chose not to comment.

 

“Sebastian.”

It was low, smooth, more frightening than it had a right to be. He looked up to see Sherlock leaning on the doorway with an unreadable expression; not unusual, for him.

“What do ya need?”

The long lean Holmes walked over and settled in his lap. “You.”

He stiffened. “What? Why?” he said, when he meant _Why not Jim?_

“You’re intriguing.”

“Intriguing.” He repeated, tongue useless for anything else.

“Don’t get me wrong. James is my intellectual match, but unfortunately that sort of competition isn’t something I look for in a lover.”

“A lover?” he squeaked out, hating himself as he did.

“If I took him to bed we’d last all of five minutes before utterly ruining each other.” he shrugged.

“What makes you think you won’t ruin me?”

“Oh I know I will. It just doesn’t matter as much.”

 

He was never going to say no, even if he’d wanted to. There was no refusing Sherlock: even Jim was powerless in the face of that blank stare, and there was really no harm in it. Holmes was an attractive man and Sebastian never turned down a good fuck.

It was the pain that was the problem. Jim was rough more often than not, yes; he could be cruel when it pleased him, both physically and mentally. But Sherlock made it an art form. Sherlock _needed_ it to get off.

“Did your doctor ever do this for you?” he asked as he knelt at the end of the bed, wrists bound at the sides.

The crop cracked against his shoulders twice as hard and Sebastian wondered when exactly he became a masochist.

 

They knew they were sharing him - they had to know. He’d worried at first Jim might be jealous he was the one getting Sherlock’s attention but the criminal didn’t seem to mind. He’d even cluck his tongue over each new scar and kiss it better, but he never told Sherlock to take it easy.

A thousand times he asked himself why he was doing this. Why not just walk away? Why not say no? Why did he bow to these tyrants again and again and again, giving away a piece of himself each time?

The truth was Sebastian didn’t know, and so he stayed in the hopes of somehow figuring it out.

 

Sebastian had no problem sleeping with Jim. When the smaller man had control, it made him feel safe in the most fucked-up way possible; when Sebastian got to dominate it fuelled his unspoken, ever-present need to rage and destroy. Sherlock was a different vice.

Sherlock brought Sebastian to his knees in worse ways than he’d ever imagined, than he’d ever seen in the army. The smallest look in the rear view mirror could have him shaking and panicked or overflowing with lust. He had _not_ agreed to this when he took what seemed like a cushy job shooting people for pay.

If anyone had said taking that job with Jim would lead to this he would have laughed. It didn’t seem quite so far-fetched now.

 

The problem was Sebastian. The problem was, he couldn’t say for certain who was in charge anymore. The problem was that if Sherlock had ordered him to blow his own brains out, he would have done it and never understood why.


End file.
